


lie like a lover

by Randomfandoms389



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dark! Alfred, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Male Lactation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Multiple Orgasms, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stalkerish Tendencies, Sweet Devil (Hetalia), spadesverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26407357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Randomfandoms389/pseuds/Randomfandoms389
Summary: “Shush, sweetheart,” he murmurs, nipping soothingly at the pale throat right in front of him. His voice could pass for human too, if he spoke softly enough. Arthur calms at it, at what he assumes is his mate, goes limp as a kitten as Alfred starts to fuck him, pressing in close to whisper, “Relax… ‘m here now. I’ll take care of you.”He wonders, amusedly, how long it will take for Arthur to notice. It would be kind of funny if Alfred could keep him fooled all the way up till the real king came bursting inSpadesverse/ sweet devil. Alfred pays a visit to his favourite human.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 112





	1. just bad timing

**Author's Note:**

> My prelims are very much not over but math is awful and bio is coming for my entire life. so! change of plans, now who wants to see me write like 10k words of Arthur getting physically and emotionally destroyed?
> 
> Might get pretty dark. This thing is kinda fucked up, pls read the tags

The room is dark when Alfred slips into it, the curtains drawn and the door shut. There are guards outside, he knows; the queen certainly couldn't be left undefended in such a vulnerable state. They didn't matter though, it wasn't like Alfred ever used the door except when it suited him and right now, he had better things to do than toy with some random humans. 

There was so much more fun to be had in here, after all, with the adorable omega curled up in the bed amid tangled sheets and discarded toys and shirts that smelled faintly of his alpha. Arthur’s dead to the world, those pretty eyes closed and his mouth slightly open, which Alfred thinks is very trusting of him but then again, there haven't been _visits_ in months, not since he’d first found out Arthur was pregnant. He’d been planning to stay away for the rest of the time too; he’s been getting so sentimental lately, but he did like babies and pregnancy seemed hard enough without him being around to stress Arthur out even more. 

But then that silly human husband of Arthur’s just had to leave and then Arthur just had to pick that time to go into a flash heat and well, here they all are. 

Alfred was a firm believer that you had to take care of your things - not to say that he always did, but Arthur was _important_ and if his useless counterpart couldn't even be here when he was needed, then Alfred would just have to step in. Their scents weren't exactly similar but Arthur was probably too heat-addled to notice and wasn't even expecting him anyway. No, his favourite little human had been oh so _relieved_ , when Alfred stayed gone for days that turned into weeks and then into months after that nauseatingly happy announcement to the entire kingdom that he was expecting. 

Alfred hadn't _really_ been gone, of course. He just hadn't revealed his presence the couple of times he’d popped back here to check on them and found Arthur in the middle of getting screwed silly over various bits of furniture, his husband leaning over his back and cooing praise and sweet nothings into a cutely flushed ear. (Alfred made fun of his counterpart a lot, but he did know how to treat an omega right, so there was that at least.) They really should have seen this flash heat coming though, with how ridiculously horny Arthur had been for the entire duration of his pregnancy because, really, he’d practically been demanding to be bent over and fucked at all hours of the day for months. It’d been pretty entertaining. And hot, but a lot of things were hot when Arthur was involved.

And now the human king was gone and Arthur’s suffering through heat alone. Really, Alfred’s doing him a favour here. Flash heats were pretty rare even for pregnant omegas and they didn't usually last long but more than made up for it by being more intense. 

Arthur’s been in heat for hours, at least. Maybe a day. Alfred can smell the arousal thick in the air, the frantic neediness. The poor thing had to be exhausted by now. He doesn't even stir when Alfred paces closer, claws clicking on stone, climbing lightly onto the bed and making the mattress dip under his weight.

He sits there for a moment, by Arthur’s back, palming himself absently through his trousers, feeling the almost feverish warmth radiating from that naked body. He could pass for human if he wanted to; lighten his hair, shed his wings and horns, tuck away his teeth and claws and tail. Arthur might even buy it; Alfred could picture it now, the way hazy green eyes would light up, the welcoming curve of plush red lips, the way Arthur would spread his legs, inviting him in.

But he’s been good for months now, keeping his hands and his dick to himself except for the few times he dropped by late and found Arthur asleep, tucked more often than not under a heavy arm and drawn in close to his alpha’s side, a broad palm cradling the swell of his belly like it was something precious. Asleep and beautiful and laid bare to Alfred’s greedy eyes, because his darling human did have a _lot_ of sex and sometimes didn't have the energy to bother with a shower before passing out.

It’s too easy to gently trail his fingers down a bare thigh and - when Arthur shivers in his sleep, slip his hand in between. Just a little, just as an indulgence, because he’d been so good and surely that deserved a reward, right? 

Arthur had such lovely thighs. Alfred finds himself touching them now, gently. He runs a hand up the back of a slender calf, past the knee and higher, lightly enough that Arthur doesn't wake, not even when Alfred’s fingers reach the curve of his ass. It’s gotten plumper since the last time Alfred had buried his face between those cheeks and made Arthur writhe, not-so-willingly singing his praises in a voice made raw with pleasure.

Arthur’s filled out a little, overall, all his sharp angles smoothed away. Pregnancy suited him, it seemed. There’d been a lot of throwing up in the early stages, which Alfred had clucked over sympathetically from an empty corner of the room for, unseen and unheard, but Arthur was pretty far along now and months of weird food cravings and not being allowed to skip meals for work had clearly been good for him.

Alfred likes it. There were all sorts of curves to Arthur’s figure now. He's soft around the edges, heavy with child, and the fact that this distanced him, Alfred’s pet human, from the real Arthur - _Alfred’s_ Arthur, who had flatly refused to be anything _but_ stubbornly sharp and bony and angular, didn't play any part in it at all. 

It didn't matter anyway. Alfred has Arthur all to himself for the first time in months and it didn't matter at all which Arthur this was. They didn't look the same or sound the same, but they were similar _enough_ that Alfred wanted it. Sex and maybe a bit more too, like the gentle cruelty of all the things Alfred could whisper into the curve of a delicate ear. Arthur looked so untouchable in the day, in front of his subjects, with his coolly polite smiles and imperious tones but he cried so easily when it was Alfred twisting the knife - Alfred, wearing the face of a lover and murmuring sweet nothings and turning Arthur’s own body against him. 

Sometimes, the tears were off-putting - _it was all wrong, Arthur did_ not _cry and even if he did, he wouldn't cry like that, soft and hopeless and afraid -_

He was still lovely though, no matter what, and Alfred was in the sort of mood to appreciate tears anyway. He could have pretended, if he wanted to, but he doesn't and so the wings stay and so do the horns and the teeth and the claws because Arthur was his and Alfred could do as he damned well pleased. 

He touches with that in mind, his hand splayed on Arthur’s hip, soft skin under his fingers as Arthur sighs in his sleep and mumbles something almost too quietly to be heard. Alfred thinks he hears his name, except it’s not him Arthur’s calling for, is it? It’s the human king Arthur wants, a king who’s hundreds of miles away, doubtlessly already rushing back since he would have been told by now that his queen in heat. 

Well, Alfred’s the one here now, not him, so his human lookalike could go fuck himself for all Alfred cared. 

He pulls down his trousers just enough to free his cock, then wakes Arthur with a kiss to the corner of his slack mouth, gentle, even as his fingers press against the inner curve of a thigh and lift, leaving Arthur _(still dazed with sleep and only barely waking up, not even realising what’s happening)_ open just enough for him to squeeze his cock in and thrust. No preparation, nothing at all, but Arthur’s wet and loose enough that it wasn't like he needed it anyway. 

Arthur lets out a gorgeous noise at it, at being fucked, being filled. It’s blurry with drowsiness, incoherent; clearly, he thinks he’s either dreaming or just isn't awake enough to care and Alfred thinks it’s cute enough to want to keep it that way, so he snags a wrinkled white dress shirt positively reeking of the human king from the bedding and drapes it over Arthur’s face as both a makeshift blindfold and way to mask his own distinct scent. 

“Shush, sweetheart,” he murmurs, nipping soothingly at the pale throat right in front of him. His voice could pass for human too, if he spoke softly enough. Arthur calms at it, at what he assumes is his mate, goes limp as a kitten as Alfred starts to fuck him, pressing in close to whisper, “Relax… ‘m here now. I’ll take care of you.”

He wonders, amusedly, how long it will take for Arthur to notice. It would be kind of funny if Alfred could keep him fooled all the way up till the _real_ king came bursting in… except no, they’d settled this game and how far it could go years ago, when Alfred had first stumbled upon a human that looked similar enough to his Arthur that he’d felt the faint stirrings of interest in another being in centuries. He hadn't _had_ to listen to anything this Arthur said but he’d figured well, why not, when the only thing his new pet had ever genuinely asked for was for this affair to never be discovered.

Arthur begged for a lot of things when Alfred was having his way with him, things like _stop please- I-I’m going to-_ and _n-no, not there, don't-!_ but they didn't count, really. He likes to think of it as the one concession he’d made for the human with the face of his old consort because Alfred didn't want a replacement, not really, and he didn't particularly feel like ruining his little pet’s life either. It seemed unnecessarily cruel and Alfred’s a demon, not an asshole.

And Arthur was too cute to break irreparably. Alfred’s barely been fucking him for a minute and not very well at that, just a lazy roll of his hips against Arthur’s ass, but you never would've guessed from the sounds he was making. 

Alfred reaches over and wraps a hand around the throbbing heat of him and Arthur just about comes instantly, with a lot of moaning and writhing and clutching clumsily at the arm around him. It’s nice. Alfred thinks he should engineer a few disasters of his own in the future that absolutely require his human counterpart to leave the castle and poor, darling Arthur all alone for his heat. 

_“Alfred,”_ he’s gasping, again and again, shifting his hips and leaking so much slick that it’s dripping everywhere and making a mess. “A-Alfred, love _, please…”_

“Yeah? Please what, sweetheart?” Alfred’s stroking his cock with nails that are too long and worrying at his neck with teeth that are far too sharp but Arthur doesn't seem to notice. This was a lot easier than he’d thought it would be and that’s… boring actually. He can't even see Arthur’s face like this, all the cute expressions that he would make, with the shirt in the way. 

“I-I want-” Arthur starts to say, but Alfred’s already tired of this game and so he just goes ahead and drapes a leathery wing over them both because there was really no way Arthur can miss a clue this obvious even he’s blinded and half out of his mind with heat. 

Predictably, he stiffens and Alfred grins into the soft, warm skin of his throat before crooning, “What is it, Arthur? Go on, tell me-” he scrapes his thumbnail over the slit of that cock, catching the last dribbles of come and making Arthur gasp and twitch, “You want me to fuck you? Bite you? Kiss your neck and whisper _I love you_ , just like your husband does?” 

He peels the shirt away and _oh_ , there it is. That look, that face, the one that Alfred has been dreaming of for months - those flushed cheeks, the green eyes wide with alarm, that reddened mouth falling open in shock, the way that even now, even knowing that it’s useless to fight it, Arthur still tries to get away, wrestling with his own arousal. 

“Hello, pet,” Alfred purrs and gives in to the urge to kiss him. 

Arthur does not reciprocate, at first, but Alfred doesn't care. He just shoves his tongue _(far too long for a human, but it came in handy sometimes)_ down that tight throat and rocks his hips and makes Arthur moan around it. He's grinning when he comes up for air that he doesn't need, almost high on the taste and the smell and the feeling of Arthur _fucking finally_ in his arms, staring dazedly up at him.

“Miss me?”


	2. Chapter 2

“Where’s your husband, sweetheart?” Alfred croons and feels the jolt that goes through Arthur, the immediate fear. _So pretty… He really had such lovely eyes._ Alfred could have looked into them forever. “Oh, don't give me that look, I was just curious. Didn't touch a hair on his golden head, if that’s what you're thinking.”

“You bastard,” Arthur spits at him, sharp and furious and afraid, all the way up until he groans and has to close his eyes as Alfred reminds him of the cock up his ass by pinning their hips together and grinding. “I-I should have known you w-were behin- _ngh_!”

“What, the storm that hit your coastal settlements?” Alfred kisses at the hinge of his jaw, amused. “Sweet of you, really, but even I can't control the weather.”

Arthur doesn't look like he believes him but that doesn't matter; all Alfred has to do is to grab his cock again and put a little more force behind the next thrust and Arthur’s left panting and squirming, too breathless for further interrogation. 

Or so Alfred thinks, but Arthur’s stubborn. 

He's red in the face and trembling all over, about half a minute from his next climax but still doggedly trying to pin something on Alfred, which is simultaneously funny and endearing. “T-then, this stupid heat…” 

“There _are_ drugs for that,” Alfred allows. “But no, I’m not that evil. I just happened to be in the neighbourhood, that’s all.” 

“If you expect me to believe-” 

“Oh, shut up already.” Alfred bites him and Arthur cries out, pushing weakly at the arm slung around his waist that’s snuggled up to the baby bump in a way that was probably a little terrifying. Alfred finds the thought delightfully perverse. “If anything, you should be upset with the _other_ me, the one that upped and left you here all alone and pregnant.”

“It wasn't his fault-!” 

Yeah, sure, fine, they had to send one of the royals out for morale and it wasn't like Arthur could travel in this condition, blah blah. Boring. Alfred shoves the damned shirt from earlier into his open mouth with an exasperated sigh. “And I don't care. You're in heat and I’m the one here now so less complaining and more sex.”

“Mmph!”

 _“More sex,”_ Alfred orders and then makes good on his word by gripping Arthur’s newly plump hips and slamming into him hard enough to make those green eyes roll back. He keeps it up, fucking him good and hard, until Arthur comes again with a strangled whimper, biting down on damp fabric as his hands go from pushing him away to curling into Alfred’s sleeve.

This time, Alfred lets himself come too, rocking in deep and filling Arthur up in a way that he probably hated his body for enjoying even if Alfred is kind enough not to knot him because that’s an automatic ticket for making omegas melt in bliss and he knows Arthur would find it utterly humiliating once he got over the high. Besides, Alfred wanted conversation and he wouldn't get it if Arthur is reduced to a pleasured trance five minutes in. 

For now, though, he starts by getting reacquainted, familiarising himself with the new shape of his pet human. And maybe embarrassing him a little but that was part of the fun, really. He supposes he should avoid the baby bump for now; he didn't want to send Arthur into a panic, after all, but everywhere else was fair game.

_Oooh…_

“These are bigger now,” he mused thoughtfully, groping his chest and trying not to laugh as Arthur immediately flushed red. Well, red _der_ , since Arthur always coloured so prettily when he was being fucked and this time was no exception. 

“S-stop that!”

Alfred does no such thing. “I like them. Are they more sensitive now?” 

He tweaks a nipple - the areolas are darker now, a little wider too - and Arthur inhales sharply, arching his back. Definitely more sensitive. Alfred tests it out; he cups a hand around the swollen flesh and squeezes, gentle, keeping his fingers around the little nub, and Arthur pants and lets slip an unwilling moan. 

_Ah, here we go._ “You like being touched there,” Alfred observes, pleased. He rolls that nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, pinching lightly. He’s careful in angling his claws away but Arthur doesn't know that and Alfred _has_ used those claws on possibly-very-sensitive spots in the past, and so the soft, sweet sounds that Arthur tries and fails to hold back are pleasured and apprehensive both, all the way up until Alfred slips out of him and guides Arthur to lie on his back. 

“What are you… _ahh…”_

Arthur squirms, pushing ineffectually at Alfred’s shoulders and gasping when Alfred licks at his chest, pinning him down with ease when he tries to worm away. It - the pinning, that is, holding Arthur right where Alfred wanted him - had been easy even before the pregnancy; he was so much smaller than Alfred and didn't even have demonic strength on his side. And now he's even clumsier, his movements slowed by the extra weight and his reflexes dulled by months away from the training field. 

The other Arthur, Alfred’s former caretaker, would never have allowed himself to be made so vulnerable. He’d been deadly with a bow, fucking terrifying if you put a sword in his hand, and he’d only gotten even more vicious after his fall from grace with all that carefully restrained bloodlust given free rein. Heaven had really fucked up on that count, in Alfred’s opinion, but then no one had asked his opinion, had they? They all wouldn't have been in this mess then and Alfred wouldn't have been reduced to tormenting a human just to get off.

This Arthur, though, played dirty. Alfred is even mostly sure that it had nothing to do with demonic influences and everything to do with the inherent brutality of all Arthurs everywhere. He was reasonably proficient with the rapier, possibly because he’d been forced into lessons since childhood, but he was fucking merciless and no one ever expected the tiny omega with big green eyes and fluffy blond hair to smile sweetly and then stab them in the fucking back with a dagger. And then another dagger, because Arthur kept one taped to his calf and the other one hidden in his waistcoat, both of which may or may not have been poisoned. 

He’d stabbed Alfred with them before and looked so fucking _pissed off_ and terrified when that had failed and Alfred had nonchalantly plucked those blades out of his ribcage had been funny enough that Alfred hadn't even punished him for it. Much. Besides, that sort of murderous intent was kinda hot. It reminded him of various fun times with his own Arthur. 

But then he’d also gotten Alfred with holy water once, which had been annoying but also kinda impressive because Alfred really hadn't thought he had it in him, to lure out a demon straight from the old myths and then dump an entire bucket of holy water on him. Kinda cliche, but well there was heavenly propaganda for you.

It might've succeeded too if Arthur hadn't been working with inaccurate information. Holy water _was_ deadly but only when made by actual angels. Having the stuff the humans kept in their quaint little churches poured on you was more akin to getting a bad sunburn than _oh-fuck-I’m-disintegrating-help._

But it still _hurt_ and Alfred had made him pay by dragging him into the closest church by the hair and throwing him into the altar hard enough that Arthur had let out a pained sound and crumpled to the ground. He’d kissed Arthur on that altar too, bitten his lips bloody before turning him over onto his stomach and shoving him back down with his legs spread and those fine clothes torn just enough for Alfred to put his cock in and fuck Arthur into sobbing, screaming climax.

They probably couldn't have a repeat of that bout now though, with Arthur so far along, which is a pity but Alfred supposes he could be gracious about it. 

Besides, he makes the exciting discovery that Arthur is apparently really, _really_ sensitive and that even blowing lightly on his chest could make his breath hitch and his hips arch off the bed. And then - and this is the best part - if he latches onto a nipple, sucking gently and circling the tender area with his tongue… 

“Oh! O-oh _god_ , I-I…” 

Alfred squeezes the nipple that he’s not currently mouthing at - gently, because it wouldn't work otherwise - and feels the slightest trickle of warm liquid over his fingers. Arthur just about loses it at that, writhing under him and moaning mindlessly as Alfred works. He's hard again, pressing himself eagerly into Alfred’s hands and then, when Alfred slips a knee between his legs, rubbing up against that too. There's growing wetness underneath them, soaking into Alfred’s pant leg, as Arthur gets riled up enough to start leaking slick. He was going to be embarrassed about that later too. 

He’s clutching at Alfred’s shoulders, slim hands fisted in his shirt. They shake a little and Alfred’s feeling smug enough about it - and curious enough about whether he could _really_ make Arthur come like this, just from sucking on his nipples- that he almost decides not to tease. 

_Nah, as if._

“Hey, sweetheart,” Alfred says, conversationally, perfectly causal for all that he’s got his human spread out under him, in heat and almost mewling with pleasure. He grins when Arthur hisses at him for stopping and stutters when he says ‘ _get on with it’_ in a voice that’s so hoarse, you’d have thought he’d been screaming. 

Arthur’s not much of a screamer, really. He’s always been quiet but Alfred supposes he can't be blamed for it, not when Alfred had once made a habit of fucking him in his own bed, with his sleeping husband right beside them - _better be careful, sweetheart, you're gonna wake him up, moaning like that-_

Alfred doesn't _quite_ get off on humiliation, but it’d been a lie to say Arthur didn't look hot when he was biting his own lip and doing his best not to let anything show in his expression when Alfred (masking his presence from other humans, of course) molested him in corridors, ran teasing hands all over him in meetings, or sucked him off under the table at fancy dinners where Arthur was supposed to be making nice with stuffy old politicians. 

“Don't _tease_ me,” Arthur moans back, slurring his words like he’s drunk as he tugs at Alfred’s shirt in a futile attempt to drag him back down. He’s flushed all over by now, from slightly rounded cheeks to collarbone to chest, too far gone to even flinch when Alfred caresses the firm curve of his belly. He blows lightly over Arthur’s chest, deliberately ghosting his breaths over those wet, swollen nipples and Arthur throws back his head and keens. 

“ _Mmmh_ , wanna… Alfred, I want…” 

_Wrong Alfred,_ he thinks absently, a smile tugging at his lips because Arthur didn't usually slip up like that. _Cute._ Well, Alfred would set him straight soon enough anyway. 

“You wanna come, honey?” The question is almost cruel in its casualness and Arthur makes all sorts of interesting noises when Alfred brings his tail into the equation, slipping it in between spread thighs and stroking at the soft, sensitive skin behind Arthur’s sac. 

“Tell me how,” he coaxes, smiling when Arthur whines and thrashes against his grip. “Go on, tell me. How much you wanna come-” the tip of his tail slips lower “-where you want me to touch you-” 

Lower. “-kiss you-”

Lower still and Arthur arches, making this choked sound in the back of his throat, as Alfred nudges the very tip of his tail against the hot little pucker of his entrance, teasing. 

“-Fuck you,” he finishes in a whisper and then he really does fuck Arthur, pushing inside with his tail and its slim spade-shaped tip. Spades. Arthur’s Queen of Spades and he remembers once saying, to a much younger Arthur, _look, see how we match?_ Arthur was made just for him, really. 

Alfred’s tail is narrow enough that it couldn't possibly hurt. Arthur could probably hardly feel it but he must feel when Alfred gets a good angle and then nails him right in the prostate with it because his pretty face twists and he sucks in this sharp, trembling breath that turns into a reluctant moan when Alfred does it again. 

Arthur’s climaxed with nothing more than this before; just this, just from Alfred’s tail moving in him _\- so wonderfully responsive, his darling Arthur -_ and so Alfred’s careful with it now. He doesn't want Arthur to come yet and so he keeps the pressure light and barely-there, a teasing promise of more pleasure that has Arthur keening, already gasping for air but still so stubborn. He wants so badly to come that the whole room reeks of it and there’s really no point in hiding it. Alfred almost doesn't see why he bothers, _tell me what you want, sweetheart, and I’ll give it to you._

Except that it’s almost a game, one he knows Arthur enjoys more than he will ever be able to admit, being teased and denied and strung out until he’s a hopeless, incoherent mess, shaking apart and choking on his own pleas. 

“Sweetheart…” Alfred coos, smiling winningly and rolling around the syllables in his mouth and tasting the shape of his favourite endearment. He’d borrowed it from his counterpart, who seemed to have an entire library of silly affectionate things just to call Arthur. 

It’s a little odd of a demon, but Alfred quite likes this sort of thing. The pet names are harmless anyway, just a little something that Alfred had always wanted to do with his own Arthur but never really got the chance to.

It’s safe, because he’d never called his Arthur anything like that because the grouchy old man would never have stood for that sort of sentimental nonsense even after Falling. Especially after Falling. But he’d had enough of a soft spot for Alfred that ‘ _angel’_ had been tolerated with no worse than a sigh or a sneer, depending on his mood. Alfred had passed it off as a lingering habit from Arthur’s previous allegiances and they had both pointedly never mentioned the soft tone in which the sort-of-nickname was always said.

This was getting a little deep for a stray thought about nicknames though and so Alfred smiles at the only Arthur he has left, brightly enough that the memory of blood-red hair and cold green eyes and bone-white skin is seared away and replaced by a softer face with freckles and hazy eyes and a brilliant flush.

That blush only deepens when Alfred just looks at him and smiles and does nothing else. 

“Gonna need you to say it for me,” he sing-songs and Arthur moans in lust and humiliation and frustration because this is an old game and they both know Arthur is going to be the first to break.

“I- I want-” Arthur starts and stops and stutters and finally, when Alfred rests his chin on the baby bump and blows tauntingly on those swollen nipples, blurts out. “Your mouth. Al-” he catches himself. “I mean… just. Suck on them. Please.” 

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” Alfred’s even nice enough not to take his tail away; he keeps it thrusting lazily, offering Arthur tantalising little bursts of pleasure whenever it drags over his prostate, even as he lowers his head and does as requested, sucking and running his tongue over the tender flesh until Arthur’s moaning loud enough that the guards outside can probably hear even through the thick door. 

There’s such unspeakable pleasure and relief in Arthur’s pretty voice as his nipple is sucked and Alfred pauses to swallow, all the while kneading gently at the flesh around the neglected nipple and coaxing out more of that odd, pale liquid, that Alfred is half wondering if it’s normal for human omegas to lactate so much that they reach the point of pain. 

He’s curious though, so he asks, “How does it feel like, on your end?” and refuses to continue until Arthur tells him. 

“S-stings,” his pet manages, breathing raggedly, lashes fluttering when Alfred nibbles delicately at a rosy nipple. “Like… _a-ahhh…”_

“Illustrative,” Alfred says dryly. He doesn't really mind though, not when the reason Arthur’s breaks off is that he’s feeling too good to keep talking. He’s writhing, hips rocking shallowly when Alfred catches that nipple between his teeth and tongue and tugs lightly at it. It makes more of that weird liquid - _milk, wasn't it?_ \- splurt into Alfred’s mouth. He's not sure how to feel about that; it didn't really taste good but it wasn't _bad_ either, and Arthur seemed to find it really, really stimulating. A human thing, maybe? He’d reacted a little like this when it was the human king sucking on him too - going all limp and shivery, moaning weakly when the human had kissed him sweetly and went on to fuck him afterwards.

There really did seem to be a lot of the stuff though. 

“I’m guessing your darling husband didn't have time to help you with this before he left,” Alfred says and is faintly amused when Arthur lolls his head around and blinks blearily at him, making an adorably confused sound that turns into an even more adorable whimper when Alfred squeezes the slightly raised flesh around his other nipple. 

“Does this always make you want to come, sweetheart?” Alfred asks, still plucking gently. “Getting your nipples teased? You didn't get hard when he was doing this to you last week.” Arthur hadn't been in heat for that though. Perhaps that was why.

His pet just moans. “Wha’ are you talking abou _-ohhhhh…”_

“Other me,” Alfred explains patiently. He pinches a little harder and is rewarded by Arthur’s soft squeal as more liquid trickles out. “You seemed to like when he was sucking on your nipples.” 

He waits breathlessly for that to sink in, the implications of it, of just _how_ he knew that _,_ and feels the twisted arousal like molten heat under his skin as Arthur’s eyes widen. 

“You were -” Arthur’s voice cracks. He swallows, stares at Alfred with such mounting, dazed horror and distant humiliation that it would be hilarious if it didn't make Alfred so hot that his tail thrashes in a frenzy and forces an unwilling cry from Arthur’s lips. 

Oh, Alfred _liked_ that sound, that look on his face.

“You were so _cute_ , with all your little noises,” he croons, feeling giddy laughter like starbursts and long-forgotten sunshine rising in his throat. It’s intoxicating. How had he stayed away this long? Arthur looks so lovely like this. Alfred can't resist. “He likes when you're loud for him, doesn't he? When he’s got you writhing, so wet that you're dripping and moaning like a fucking whore?”

“Stop it,” Arthur says, quiet and shaking. He’s trying to hide it, but there are tears in his eyes and that doesn't quite feel like a victory yet but it will soon enough so Alfred goes on.

“I was _watching_ , sweetheart,” he’s nuzzling the firm swell of Arthur’s belly, hands running possessively over his sides and it’s so _easy_ to use Arthur’s own body against him. He’s saying such horrible things and Arthur’s still hard because he’s in heat and needy and Alfred can just tell that it’s killing him to still be enjoying everything that’s being done to him. “You were so _good_ , putting on such a show, it was like you knew I was there. Did you, baby? Did you think about me while he was fucking you?”

Arthur shakes his head, frantic. He’s trembling all over, hands now fisted in the bedsheets, and the _sound_ he makes when Alfred puts away his horns and slips easily into the guise of his human husband, all blond hair and tanned skin, is _exquisite_. 

“Easy there, sweetheart,” he hums, kissing him on the baby bump - just for kicks - before grinning, stretching his mouth a little too wide, baring inhumanly sharp teeth. “What if it really _was_ me fucking you though? That’d be funny, I think. Would you even be able to tell the difference if I didn't show you?”

He’s twisting the knife, deeper and deeper, and Arthur finally cracks.

“Don't, _please-_ ” 

The tears spill over and Alfred coos, slipping up the length of Arthur’s body and kissing him on the mouth, achingly gentle, playing the part. “Aww, don't cry, beautiful. ‘M right here, aren't I?” 

“C-change back,” Arthur gasps out, crying harder, for some reason. “Please, I d-don't… I don't _want…_ ” He hiccups on a sob and Alfred can't help himself from nosing at his soft cheek, tasting salt and licking away the tears. 

“So soon?” A pout, hiding his teeth. “What if I wanted to fuck you like this though? It’d be nice of me, I think. Won’t it? You can lie back and pretend so much easier.”

Arthur refuses to reply. Or maybe he does and he’s just crying too hard for Alfred to understand. 

“I think I’ll do that,” _keep making that face for me, yes, yes, just like that_ “You should pretend. I like those names you call your husband too. Say them for me, sweetheart?”

Arthur doesn't, not until Alfred moves to kneel between his legs, easily prying them apart when Arthur tries to close them and roll away. It’s a good view, from here. He can see everything like this, Arthur flushed red and squirming, his entire body laid out so nicely for Alfred’s perusal. 

“Go on,” he coaxes, pulling Arthur’s lower body onto his lap and spreading him, hands on his ass, holding him open for the blunt head of Alfred’s cock. “Pretend. Call me all those cute little pet names of yours. ”

His tail is still inside. He curls it, pushing eager fingers in alongside, stretching Arthur out a little, and is equal parts distracted and charmed to feel a slight kick from Arthur’s belly, where their bodies are pressed flush. Human babies did do that sometimes, didn't they? Arthur really should calm down a little - Alfred is almost sure that they also did that in response to their mother’s agitation. 

He withdraws a hand, puts it on that rounded belly to feel the movements better. It’s not a threat, per se - Alfred was just curious - but Arthur clearly takes it as one, because he goes still immediately. 

“Don't hurt it. Please.” His green eyes were glassy. “Please, Alf- my d-darling, m-my love, don't, don't do this, don't, please-” 

Alfred silences the flood of words by shoving in, not even taking out his tail before burying himself deep inside and drawing a wordless cry from that pretty mouth. “Liar,” he says delightedly, thoroughly entertained by the way raw pleasure and panic looked on Arthur’s face, the beauty of it. “Tell me more.”

Arthur does, calls him _darling_ and _sweetheart_ and _dearest_ and says _I love you, I love you_ over and over in a voice that breaks on every word and it’s not even close to what his Arthur had used to call him ( _“Come along, poppet, I’ll read you a story before bed if you promise to be good, alright?”_ and _“You absolute idiot, my goodness, where did I ever go wrong with you-”_ ), but close enough that Alfred almost tells him to stop and finally just makes him by yanking him further onto his cock and replacing the desperate babble with a choked cry. 

This game wasn't much fun anyway. Alfred makes up a new one; he wraps a hand around Arthur’s weeping cock and makes Arthur pinch his own nipples and gives himself a point for every time he makes Arthur orgasm. 

Arthur passes out after a while of this - a few hours, Alfred thinks, glancing away to find muted sunlight streaming in around the edges of the blackout curtains covering the windows. Just loses consciousness, going limp after a particularly punishing bout where Alfred had put him on his hands and knees and fucked him with his tongue until he screamed. 

His little pet was only human after all, in heat or not. Alfred is a little disappointed, but he contents himself by picking through the toys strewn around the bed and sometimes using them on Arthur as he sleeps. 

Apparently, when physically exhausted, Arthur _can_ orgasm without waking up. Good to know; Alfred will have to remember that. He’s quieter like this, only gasping and whimpering a little as Alfred puts his fingers in and takes them out or amuses himself by seeing how many dildos he can fit up Arthur’s ass at once.

The answer, by the way, is two and Arthur wakes up to that and also Alfred considering whether or not to put clamps on his poor, abused nipples. They’d stopped leaking a while ago, even when stimulated, which Alfred finds mildly fascinating and a little dissatisfying because he’d just gotten used to that particular feature. 

But anyway - nipple clamps. Arthur always squirms about very cutely when Alfred forces him to wear them under his shirt and he’d been wanting to see that again but Arthur actually cries when begging him not to, so he supposes it could wait. Arthur’s nipples had probably been abused enough for one day anyway and they were so red and puffy that they _did_ look like they hurt a lot… Arthur cries again when Alfred licks soothingly at them but it seemed like good tears this time, so Alfred makes sure he’s gentle. 

He’s got his mouth on Arthur’s cock, sucking him off, when they hear the commotion outside. Or well, Alfred does, at least. Arthur doesn't look like he’s in any shape to notice anything but whatever Alfred’s doing to him, which is pretty gratifying. 

Still, time was running out and Alfred makes it quick, sucking hard and swallowing Arthur’s little cry, his hands slipping on sweat-slick skin as Arthur’s hips lift weakly off the bed and he comes. There's a lot less of _that_ than before too, and Alfred spares a second to be smug that he’d gotten to Arthur so thoroughly before his husband had. 

Arthur is still spasming when Alfred cuddles up to his back and nuzzles his ear. “Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers, stroking at soft, warm skin. “Hear that? Your husband’s back. Aren't you happy?”

Arthur’s lashes flutter. He looked good, of course, he always did, but not fully present. His eyes were blank and a little dull. That was okay; having too many orgasms to count in the preceding ten hours would do that to a human. 

“A-Alfred..?” 

“On his way, honey,” he kisses a too-warm temple tenderly. “Probably sprinting up the stairs to you right now.” 

Arthur gives a half-aware little _mrmh_ and is too tired to even remember to ask Alfred to leave. He’s limp in Alfred’s arms, every muscle loose and slack. Alfred has always loved him like that, too drained and spent to care whatever was happening around him. He’d stopped struggling away from Alfred’s affection long ago, which was its own brand of satisfying, really. 

Alfred wonders, a little amused, what the human king would make of this. He would be expecting an omega lost in the throes of heat, desperate for an alpha’s touch, not Arthur’s sated exhaustion, after all. Well, he would probably just assume that the heat had already wound down. He wouldn't suspect anything else if Alfred cleaned up after himself.

There are a lot of raised voices outside. Rushed footsteps down the corridor. 

Alfred sighs a little regretfully. Arthur is so warm and he smells so good like this, so debauched, with Alfred’s scent all over him, soaking into his skin. He’d left his marks all over the sex-flushed body in his arms - lovebites on the crook of a neck and an elegant collarbone, bruises on the curve of a thigh and on the gentle swell of a breast. And he likes knowing how if he reaches down between Arthur’s legs, his fingers will meet sloppy wetness, a slowly cooling mess of slick and come painted all over smooth skin. 

Alfred had filled up his pet so well; it’d be such a shame to remove all evidence of his presence. 

Alas, needs must. 

When the human king comes crashing in, there is no sign of anyone else ever being in the room. The only scent in the air belongs to the barely-conscious queen too spent to even turn his head to the door when it opens. The bed is in disarray but Arthur is the only one sprawled in it and his skin is heavily flushed but perfectly smooth, smeared with nothing but his own slick and sweat and come.

_“Oh, Arthur, sweetheart -”_

Alfred watches the reunion from a not-so-safe distance, leaning against the bedpost on the far side of the frame and tucking his hands into his pockets as the human king climbs in and kisses his mate softly, sweetly, soothing Arthur when he stares as if seeing a ghost and then bursts into near-silent sobs. 

It makes the king coo in sympathy, wiping away the tears with his thumbs and pressing kisses to Arthur’s forehead, his words an unwitting echo of Alfred’s own deception hours ago- _shhh, baby, I’m here now, I’m sorry for taking so long, calm down, okay? You're gonna make yourself sick, crying like this…_

It just makes Arthur sob harder, clutching at his mate with desperate, shaking hands. He practically drags the man on top of him, half-hiding himself, his body, his nakedness, as if he could _tell_ Alfred was still in the room. 

Arthur really was so cute. It was such a shame that their time together had to end so soon.

“I’ll be seeing you, sweetheart,” Alfred murmurs into the quiet and slips away.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more week of prelims to go.... TuT here's to hoping my motivation survives to next weekend

**Author's Note:**

> ...This was probably not what that one anon from a few months back meant when they asked for a mpreg fic but I do remember some people wanting to see fucked up shit so uh. I hope I didn't go overboard on that because the rest is even worse.
> 
> I'm just... gonna. go now. yeah.


End file.
